FERRARA
That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fr Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
``Fr Pandolf'' by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Fr Pandolf chanced to say ``Her mantle laps
``Over my lady's wrist too much,'' or ``Paint
``Must never hope to reproduce the faint
``Half-flush that dies along her throat:'' such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart—-how shall I say?—-too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace—-all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men,—-good! but thanked
Somehow—-I know not how—-as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech—-(which I have not)—-to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, ``Just this
``Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
``Or there exceed the mark''—-and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,
—-E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!
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Honey??
From guest Honey (contact)
Would anyone be able to assist me, and let me know the date in which this poem was constructed. In connection to this, If you write petry i would loove to hear some of your work, from Honey,F,16,Essex. x x x -
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To guest Honey and anyone else interested.
We try and anticipate such questions so if you're looking at a particular poem (like this one) and go to the top right of the page you'll find the authors name and sometimes a picture. Underneath that we also try to write in the date it was written or first published if we know it. This one was 1843.
Jim
Oldpoetry Team leader
PS
I think the answer to your other question is just Punctuation!!
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gcse
From guest Honey (contact)
somebody help!!!!!!!!!!! what is it called when robert browning has left punctuation off the end of the lines to seem more realistic and like it is being spoken. HELP ASAP x x x -
Arranged Marriage
This is a great poem. A little hard to read, but it's about Duke of Ferrara whose just murdered his wife (NOT EASY TO SPOT, VERY SUTTLE). He is now negotiating for the daughter of another wealthy man. While negotiating in this dramatic monologue, He thinks he is talking himself up, while in fact he is showing his arrogant/violent self to the guy that is arranging this marriage to be. Which is the irony of the whole poem. Lines 45-47 are where he suttely reveals that he murdered his wife. You can tell the negotiator is going to give a bad reference to his boss about this Duke in lines 53-54. -
Okay, I don't believe that the narrative voice in the poem is Robert Browning (mainly because it is the fictitious Duke of Ferrara). I don't know if this is a mistake or not, but I'd like to point out that the first time I read this poem 'Fr' was 'Fra', there were '"' instead of '''' at the beginning of each line continuing a speech and the font style of all text in the poem was exactly the same. I found this distracting. This is probably my second favourite poem because the rhythm and rhyme scheme are flawless and this is emphasised by the poet's use of enjambment. The character of the Duke is amazingly vivid and also quite likeable despite his actions and obvious eccentricity (perhaps because of it) and this makes the poem come alive for the reader. The visions of a young romantic wife are amazingly and beautifully expressed. This is probably one of the best poems I have ever read and it is incredibly deep. You may have to read it more than once to spot the references to the assassination of the Duke's wife. Thanks for including it on this site. Barbie. Xx
Edited on May 06, 10:50 because ''. -
How glad I am that I'm not the Duke's wife. How elegently Browning shows what a twisted, obsessive nutcase he is. So perfectly proper, right on target for the time period.
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How awesome and twisted is this poem. I think that Browning shows a lot of balls writing about such a taboo subject as the killing of one's wife in Victorian England. Yet, he still manages to do it in an utterly choice Victorian way. I love this poem.
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This is a very good poem. It really pictures anybodies mind with imagery if concentrated enough. Pretty exciting action to do.
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